


The Varied Uses of Lyrium Fisting

by serpoundalot (groovyphilia)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, Modern AU, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groovyphilia/pseuds/serpoundalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being left alone with Anders is one of Fenris' least favourite things. And yet, he somehow finds himself phasing through an arcade machine for an offensively fluffy kitten plush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Varied Uses of Lyrium Fisting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [immortalbears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalbears/gifts).



> (Cross-posted on [Tumblr](http://andersing.tumblr.com/post/66370908452/fic-in-which-fenris-fists-an-arcade-machine))
> 
> Bear [suggested that Fenris’ lyrium fisting would be useful for those arcade claw cranes](http://daddysbear.tumblr.com/post/66356933488/seriously-though-that-post-about-fenris-weird), specifically if Anders wanted a stuffed kitten prize enough to plead for it. Or, in the case of what I actually wrote, to piss off Fenris enough to get the prize for him. 
> 
> Modern AU to facilitate presence of arcades, still have elves, still have mages, fill in the details as you please. Fenders if you squint and look sideways.

The arcade was noisy. There were too many flashing lights. Hawke was gone, and he had left Fenris with the  _mage._

The mage who, at present, was steadily blaspheming his way through Andraste’s anatomy in a string of creative curses. Fenris was hardly a devout Andrastian, but a cry of ‘ _Andraste’s bountiful bouncing bosoms_ ' probably merited a few choice words.

He remained silent, and left the mage to his claw machine. Speaking to Anders might encourage conversation, which was always a nightmare.

The machine flashed violently, played a jaunty tune, and politely inquired if Anders would like to try again. Anders smacked his palm against the controls and swore yet again. “Andraste’s  _hairy_  - “

"If you  _must_ preoccupy yourself with that thing,” Fenris interrupted, “could you not do so in _silence?”_

Anders glared. Fenris glared back. It was their preferred mode of communication. “This blighted thing is rigged,” Anders insisted, smacking the console again. “I’ve been at it for - for - “

"Forty-three minutes." Fenris had started counting when he’d been forced to tolerate Anders’ presence alone.

”- almost an  _hour_ , and I haven’t even gotten near the kitten - “

"The…kitten.”

Anders looked mutinous. Still, he glanced into the glass case of the machine - there, nestled in the pile of pastel plush toys, was something resembling a fluffy kitten with a grotesquely large head. It had the stripes of a ginger tabby, and a long, curled tail.

Fenris wrinkled his nose.

"I didn’t ask for your opinion," Anders shot at him, and before Fenris could point out he had hardly offered it – "I’m going to get more tokens. Stay here and make sure no one takes the kitten."

A prickle of annoyance. “Do not presume to tell me what to do,  _mage_ ,” he answered tersely, leaning against the arcade machine. He folded his arms. “And you’ve wasted enough time. Hawke’s been gone too long; we should search for him.”

"He’s gone missing with Isabela," Anders said dismissively, searching his pockets for change. "They’re probably, oh, having sex in the public bathroom. Or playing Dance Dance Revolution. Isabela’s actually  _good._ At the dancing. Well, the sex too, but _–_ ”

Fenris didn’t want to think about Anders and Isabela having sex, or playing Dance Dance Revolution. Late nights at the Hanged Man meant he’d already seen more of the ‘spicy shimmy’ than he’d like. “Then we will find them and tell them to hurry up,” he said, pushing himself off the machine.

Anders didn’t budge. “You go find them, then. I’m not leaving until I get that kitten.”

Fenris twitched. “I’d be more than willing to leave you here, but it isn’t my choice.”

"What is  _that_ supposed to mean?”

"Hawke asked me to keep an eye on you."

Anders, who had started towards the token counter, whirled around. By the expression on his face, the mage was genuinely offended. “He would  _not._ I don’t need you…looming over me like my bloody keeper. I’m a grown man!”

"You have spent the past hour on futile attempts to win a child’s toy."

"We’re in an arcade! Not everybody’s satisfied with brooding in a corner."

Fenris glowered. “Whether you like it or not, it was Hawke’s request - and after your actions last month, I’m hardly surprised.”

The fault had lay with Anders’ magic, of course. Somehow, a month ago, the mage had gotten it into his head that a carefully applied electricity spell could spark a machine into relinquishing more tickets. The machine had exploded, and the resulting spectacle had taken Hawke and Varric’s combined charm to smooth over. In Fenris’ opinion, it hadn’t been worth their time.

A sentiment that generally applied where Anders was concerned.

"Then I suppose you’ll just have to stay there and wait," Anders said petulantly.

He could knock Anders unconscious. Stride out of the arcade with the mage’s weak body slung over his shoulder. There were several heavy objects within arm’s reach, but a good punch might do the trick.

"Either Hawke comes to get us, or we find him after I have that kitten."

No, he had tried something similar a few weeks back. The mage had put up a surprisingly good fight, and in the end, security had intervened. It had been embarrassing for all parties involved.

"Ha!" Anders fished out a crumpled two-dollar note in triumph. "Right then, I’ll just - "

"Mage," Fenris ground out, hand already twitching. "If I get that furry… _abomination_ for you, will you be quiet? And will you look for the others?”

That, it seemed, stunned Anders into blessed silence – a silence unfortunately short-lived. “You’d do that? For me?”

"No." Fenris stalked over to the machine, glancing surreptitiously at the dozing security guard. "I will do this so that you will shut up _.”_

Varric had once told him that his skills made for excellent pickpocketing. Fenris hadn’t acted on that recommendation, but the theory seemed sound enough. His tattoos flared an otherworldly blue, before he thrust his hand into the case - co-existing with a glass pane was a startlingly unpleasant experience -  grasped the stuffed kitten around the neck, and wrenched it off of its perch.

The machine blinked its lights cheerily. At the arcade entrance, the security guard gave a resilient snore.

"Here is your…kitten." said Fenris with thinly-veiled disdain. He held out the toy gingerly, as though it were contaminated. 

Anders, it seemed, did not share his opinion. The mage took the kitten plush from him with every appearance of delight, and clutched it to his chest. He even made several vague cooing noises. 

Fenris had always suspected Anders was insane, and this only added to his slowly-growing list of evidence.

"Thank you, Fenris," said Anders, which startled the elf out of his thoughts. Even more disconcerting than his thanks, Anders was beaming at him. He had seen the mage smile before, of course - though never at him; it was typically reserved for Varric, or Hawke, or perhaps Isabela. Or anyone addled enough to agree with the man’s stance on mage freedom.

Fenris felt highly uncomfortable. He also felt the sudden, irrational urge to run from the arcade.

"We should move on,” he offered instead, and turned away.


End file.
